Façades

[Proto Man]

Day 3, Morning

I’m not quite sure what Blues was expecting when he signed us up to serve a fortnight in this cramped tower. He’s shared the ‘stories’ of his ‘youth,’ but even then, I feel like the accommodations here are stunning even for someone who technically resides in the ghetto of an industrialized city.

The first day we were here was uninteresting, but I did have the pleasure of meeting some of the ‘finer’ members of Darkshire’s garrison. It seems as if Tower Six is where they send people to die, because absolutely none of these men (or the pair of women) would survive even a day in normal society without winding up behind bars. Within three hours, I had fourteen people attempt to romance me, and after the seventeenth, I broke someone’s jaw. I believe that very public display of brutality tempered their interest, because no one has bothered me since.

Aside from Blues, the only one in here who is bearable is a woman named Abigail. She’s the only here who doesn’t look or act like she would stab me in an alley for drug money. In fact, the more I talk to her the more she seems to be a pretty normal person, albeit someone who has endured a lot of stress in her ‘Omniverse life.’ From her story, she woke up near Silent Hill a few years ago. Before her curiosity could get the best of her, she got a transmission from someone called ‘the Viper.’ It was a warning message for anyone on the channel and in range to stay away from the fog.

With a bit of luck, she found her way to civilization, and after spending a year wandering around the verses trying to find some answers, she returned to Darkshire. She confided in me that she’s not a ‘melee’ person, but as a secondary, she felt uncomfortable trying to seek out a prime to get her ‘modern’ (as she called them) weapons. As a result, she said she has spent most of her time trying to figure out how to fight with a sword and shield or a polearm. After that, she decided to stick around to try and keep her new surrogate home a safer place until she could figure out why she had been summoned to the Omniverse.

If she isn’t lying, that probably makes her the most selfless person I’ve met in the Darkshire militia…

The second day here, Blues and I got to share duty ‘up top.’ That means we spent most of the afternoon staring out into the fields that surround Darkshire. The two other people that made up our rotation complained the entire time that the view from the otherside of town was much better. I’m not sure I believe them. Either way you cut it, you’re still in the Pale Moors. As far as I’m concerned, nothing in this place could be ‘better’ than the view someone would have as they walk through the Gate into a neighboring verse.

Blues tells me that I’m being ‘cynical,’ but it’s not my fault that the phrase ‘depressing heap of shit’ isn’t programmed into his vocabulary. Don’t get me wrong… Darkshire was probably once a very nice place to live. I may have spent most of my life in the woods, but I can still tell that the wood and materials used to build this place were extremely high quality. Even the halfway houses were built from mahogany, birch, and cedar wood, which were relatively expensive materials. Of course, years of disrepair had rendered them scarred and dilapidated, but it’s obvious that there used to be a shine to this place before the dust and grime took over.

Duty that day went without incident, which I heard is a rarity, but I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth?

We’re on the third day, and I find myself once again sitting awake in the barracks while everyone sleeps. Even Blues is ‘in standby’ tonight. Usually, he only goes inactive for an hour or so, but he told me earlier today that he would need to have some more downtime in an effort to get all of his systems back to ‘maximum functionality.’ Sometimes I forget that he’s made of steel and fire beneath that skin, because he’s so convincing as an actual kid when he isn’t destroying monsters and avenging the fallen.

With any luck, the time we spend here will travel quickly, and we’ll be able to remove ourselves from the Pale Moors. I keep hearing whispers about what is going on in the bureaucratic circles, and it leads me to believe that there are some very dark things happening beneath the surface. If anything, our time here should give me the opportunities I need to try and piece together this puzzle. I’ll try and outline my thoughts a little later. For now, I think I’ll go back to sleep… there’s only so much sitting an elf can do.

***

Mireya awoke to the sound of drums.

Understanding that she wasn’t hearing the usual wakeup call, the woman bolted into an upright position and reached for her spear. She didn’t have the weapon on her during duties ‘up top,’ but she always slept with it beneath her ‘mattress.’ By the time she had slipped on her gear and gotten to her feet, the humans in the barracks had mostly started to stir from their sleep and moan and groan.

At the end of her row of bunks, she crossed passed Proto Man, who was sitting up and glancing around. The preteen machine wore a frown on his youthful visage as he hopped off the bed, his right arm replacing itself with his hand cannon as he glanced up at his companion. “That beat denotes that we’re under attack,” he stated blandly, as if he were reading from a manual rather than informing her that their cramped little tower was under siege.

“Well I guess we should do our job,” Mireya replied as she started toward the doorway that led up to the outside. Behind her, Proto Man trailed her by a few steps, and a longer glance revealed that some of the more athletic members of their barracks had readied themselves. At the helm of that group was Abigail, who scowled as she clutched a sword in her hand.

“Groups of two as we go up the stairs!” The blonde woman shouted at the others as they rushed to catch up with Proto Man and Mireya.